


Caught Red-Handed

by ruthy4vrsmoaked



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bantering, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthy4vrsmoaked/pseuds/ruthy4vrsmoaked
Summary: During a special kind of school reunion, Draco Malfoy catches Hermione Granger while she's reading an erotic romance novel.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 211
Collections: DFW Birthday GOGO Fest 2020





	Caught Red-Handed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LightofEvolution](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightofEvolution/gifts).



> To my dear LightofEvolution.  
> Receiving your name as a getter is an honour, I'm a great fan of your works. It has however increased the pressure of delivering something not fluffy but funny while my muse was on strike.
> 
> Thankfully I saved a plunny from FB and a fellow writer gave me the ultimate push: the answer to why would Hermione punch Draco again? I want to thank TriDogMom for her epic line: "Now you don't look like a buck-toothed beaver anymore, you can play with my wood, Granger"
> 
> As of last, I want to thank LadyRhy for her beta help, it's a honour to partner with you, my dear Reylo sister.

#  _Caught Red-Handed_

"Ah, Granger, what are we reading today?" The unexpected question made Hermione jump a foot in the air with a startled squeak, a hand slamming her chest. Draco stood there behind her chair. He grabbed the book in a heartbeat, reading aloud from a random passage, " _Her palm searched the hardness, circled around the girth through the fabric and pumped, his hips supplying the desired pace. Impatient hands and feet helped pull the slacks and trunks away to give her access to his velvety, hard rod_.”

Draco paused, clearing his throat. He was a man, after all, and far from immune to the images unfolding in his head, featuring a certain brunette and a bed. "Now you don't look like a buck-toothed beaver anymore, you can play with my wood, Granger," he lowered his voice suggestively.

“You! You bloody ferret!” Growling, Hermione pulled her fist back and knocked Draco squarely on the nose, a perfect replication of her move in their third year.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall's voice boomed through the library. "Why is Mister Malfoy's nose bleeding?"

“Because at his thirties, he’s still an idiot, Headmistress." The blond head tilted up at that, revealing his cocked brow, his nose held between both hands. Hermione used the moment to snatch the incriminating book from the table and stow it quickly between the other volumes inside her bag.

“I didn’t know idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose.” Minerva inspected the bleeding and pulled her wand, casting an _episkey_ on the injury.

Draco sniffed a few times, relieved, but stared at Hermione with defiance. 

“I guess it's a new phenomenon.” The brunette picked the bag up by its shoulder strap and slung it across her back, eager to escape further inquiry.

“Mister Malfoy, would you care to explain why Miss Granger resorted to such a violent measure?” The Headmistress switched gazes between wizard and witch. Their twin blushes gave them away, so whatever had happened it wasn’t so innocent in nature. In fact, their bantering had caught the attention of every professor during this special event Hogwarts organised for the first time. They invited every student from one specific to relieve one week at Hogwarts, like an odd school reunion. The choice had easily fallen for the students of ‘98, as their last year had ended everything but like a normal graduating year.

Despite the time it had passed, exchanges between many of the old students who’d lived through the dark days of Voldemort’s rule, continued to hold an aggressive tone. Through an unexpected therapeutic session, however, the animosity had declined and a certain tentative understanding had risen in its place. Those who’d fought for Voldemort revealed a darker reality than some had believed, fraught with unseen torture and mental abuse. Those who had fought for Hogwarts listened, but only accepted the offered excuses when they carried a genuine, heartfelt apology.

By the end of the week, the table at the dining room carried a friendlier tone, the once-rivals finding kindred spirits in one another and forging tentative friendships against the odds.

All except this pair. The self-appointed former Slytherin Prince, nowadays a well-established potion master, and the renowned Gryffindor Princess, the favourite candidate for Minister of Magic at the next elections. If caught on the opposite side of the table or forced to share a working bench, neither Draco nor Hermione cut the other any slack. It was, at times, quite distracting.

"Well, Mister Malfoy, what was this “idiocy” that forced Miss Granger's hand?" Old habits are not easily unlearned and she gave the young wizard a stern look.

“I caught Granger reading a... certain type of novel not suited for a Hogwarts student, Headmistress.” Draco returned the stern look with a vindictive glare.

“Miss Granger, what kind of literature were you reading that so offended Mister Malfoy’s sense of decorum?” This time Minerva curiously faced the younger witch. If she went by the redness of Hermione’s cheeks, it was indeed not something to be found from among the library’s approved offerings.

Hermione breathed deeply a few times before answering, “A muggle-written young adult fiction, Headmistress.” She did her best to make it sound as innocent as possible.

“It was a pornographic drivel, Headmistress McGonagall.” Draco interrupted with glee. “I read how the woman was stroking the man’s-- uh…”

“Yes, Mister Malfoy, what was the woman stroking?” Minerva was enjoying the countless ways the thirty-something was twitching to remain polite while speaking in such vulgar terms.

“The man’s euh…” He huffed, stroked a hand over his face and took another breath. “His _manhood_ , Headmistress.”

“Miss Granger, did you punch Mister Malfoy’s nose because he read your novel?” Keeping a straight face was an arduous task, Minerva’s mouth twitching at the corners.

“He invited me to play with his wood, Headmistress, because I don’t look like a buck-toothed beaver any longer.” If looks could kill, Minerva was sending an owl to the Malfoy Manor at this very instant. Hermione sent deadly glares at the wizard beside her.

"While I agree with Mister Malfoy that such literature is inappropriate to be read in the Hogwarts library, his offer to play with his wood is hardly suitable, either." The two former students studied the points of their shoes simultaneously. It was time Minerva gave the last push to end the feud. Their bickering had nothing to do with unresolved tempers, but everything to do with unacknowledged feelings. 

Draco Malfoy had apparently turned over a new leaf and had become the opposite of the bratty boy he’d been at eleven. In Minerva's professional estimation, he was a wizard who both equalled and defied her favourite witch-student at every step. Her old romantic heart saw a surprising potential between this couple. She had kept up to date with the comings and goings of a selected few former students. How Hermione and Ron’s short marriage hadn’t been the success everyone had expected to be. Also, Draco Malfoy’s widely debated broken engagement which had filled countless Daily Prophets and similar tabloid press.

"It seems to me that Mister Malfoy finds your reading choice quite interesting," she goaded them.

“No, Headmistress. Certainly not!” Draco looked horrified as he gasped his denial, if for no other reason than because he couldn’t seem to keep his bodily reactions in check. In fact, this more mature version of Hermione Granger privately featured in quite a number of his wet dreams nowadays, and had for far longer than he cared to admit.

"Are you going to dispute the point, Mister Malfoy?" Minerva's gaze bored into Draco's eyes before turning back to Hermione. "As I was saying, I think Mister Malfoy is curious about your novel, Miss Granger. We must never waste the opportunity to appreciate what makes muggle culture unique, especially when you’re both so clearly _open_ to the subject matter. So, I expect you two to read this muggle novel together and write me a three-foot parchment book review."

In all the decades Minerva taught at Hogwarts, she’d never watched two individuals flush so deep as the two before her now.

Draco grumbled, turning his face away from McGonagall, “Merlin’s saggy left ball.”

"Headmistress, I can't see how th-," Hermione began to counter but was quickly rebutted by the older witch. 

“Was the assignment unclear, Miss Granger?”

"No, Headmistress." Hermione conceded, horror written all over her face. The paragraph Draco had caught her reading wasn't the most explicit in the book. She had reason to worry, she knew, as McGonagall dismissed them with a hand. The two retreated without sparing a look at one another.

“Miss Granger!” McGonagall called right at the moment that Hermione was turning the door handle. “Once you’ve finished, I would like to borrow your book. I used to read quite a few in my younger years.”

Hermione whimpered and nodded. She couldn’t run away fast enough.

-oOo-

Draco raked a hand through his hair, asking, "How are we going to do this?" He’d rather grab the erumpent by its horn and have this task done with than drag it out for ages. The chances that the old twat would forget her assignment were negligible.

“Not in our common room. I don’t need more remarks regarding my reading choices,” Hermione huffed as she headed to her dorm, inviting the Slytherin to enter with a jerk.

"Usually, when a witch invites me to her bed, she puts up a more seductive act," he sneered. The pompous act was all just a facade to hide the nerves he felt running through him. On the way to the living quarters exceptionally designed for this week's’ event - located in their own wing of the castle - he begged his body to keep it in check.

“Your behind is going to stay on its chair and far from my bed. I’m not seducing you for a round of vertical gymnastics.” She conjured a second chair and enlarged her study table with a flick of her wand. 

Draco cocked his head, eyeing their study space, “I need something strong to deal with this task.” He left her room to return moments later, holding a bottle of firewhiskey and two tumblers. He poured a generous serving of the amber liquid in both glasses and shoved one towards Hermione. After a healthy swig, he cracked his neck and fingers, “Let’s start.”

Hermione shook her head, rolled her eyes and sipped the whiskey. Opening the book, they started to read, parchment ready at Hermione’s side to take notes.

-oOo-

The first ten pages of the story were read in silence, both of them quickly sucked into the adventurous plot of a group of students going through several trials in search of a mysterious artefact.

Draco and Hermione found themselves shoulder to shoulder, bent over the book, occasionally reaching out to grab one of their tumblers for a steadying sip.

Suddenly, the wizard broke the silence. “Hey, listen to this: ‘ _His tongue darted out, licking her lips and demanding entrance. When she gave him permission, he tasted every corner, toying until her tongue started to battle with his for dominance._ ’ Are the tongues clashing together like swords? Have you ever battled a tongue?” He cocked an eyebrow wickedly at her.

“That’s not the point,” Instead of responding to his innuendo, she decided to explain the meaning behind the description academically. Safely. “The author is describing how they are tongue-kissing.” The sexual tension in that passage was rising quickly and was also increasing the temperature in the room, apparently. Hermione grabbed after the bottle of liquor to refill her glass instead of opening a button from her blouse.

“You battled the weasel’s tongue as if you’re duelling with the enemy?” Draco mirrored her move, sipping immediately after the refill.

“No!” It came out louder than intended, and she sunk a little in embarrassment. Ron’s kissing technique hadn’t been so refined, unfortunately. It was as if he wanted to taste her tonsils, instead.

“Ah, so Ronnekens hasn’t kissed you properly?” Hermione’s face could be an open book at times, he thought. Draco leaned closer. “Do you want to try it with a _real_ wizard?”

"Yes, when I find one." Hermione parried. Maybe she should start drinking water instead. The heat was beginning to rise in her head, abetted by the alcohol she’d guzzled. "Let's continue." She focused on her book and missed the smug look of the silver-eyed wizard beside her.

There was silence for a few moments, again.

“You like to read this shit?” He lifted the back cover of the book and let it fall with a thump. “ _She wasn’t able to walk after he was done with her._ Do you find this erotic? Is it how you want to be taken by a man, so roughly that you can't walk? I mean it's fine that he's fucking her against the wall. That I can agree with," Draco continued reading aloud, “ _Pushing her knickers down her hips, aided by his eager hands, she kicked the clothes out of harm's way. He hoisted her, positioned and entered her in a swift move, taking both their breaths away._ ” He cleared his throat, resettling his crossed legs so the witch wouldn't notice a particular bulge. "None of my witches had their legs cut after I fucked them against a wall."

Despite her efforts, the heat on her cheeks expanded down her neck towards her chest. She was already breathing harder from mentally inserting herself in that scene, imagining her legs wobbly after being fucked senseless by a certain platinum-blond wizard. 

"Any wizard worth his salt can make a witch hobble on her legs, Granger, especially after a decent shagging. But I guess you only know the missionary position." His grey gaze bored holes into her own, "Do you need a demonstration, darling?"

"I'm not that desperate, and you're not that lucky." She turned the page and focused visibly on the next part.

Not much later, Draco swallowed dryly as the inflammatory prose continued to cast its spell. If this torture continued, he would have to excuse himself for a little me-time in the bathroom.

His eyes devoured the passage they’d come to.

_“_ _The nipples hardened under his gaze, his thumb ghosting feathery-light over the tip. Her breathing sped up, keeping an eye on his every move, narrowing her gaze onto the tongue slithering around a peak. At the same time, the free hand tweaked and caressed the other mound._

_Satisfied with the amount of attention to her bosom, he left a wet trail from the valley to the apex. Kissing, licking and biting all the way down, ending the torture with two chaste kisses left and right from her mound venus._

_He spread her legs, then opened her nether lips, admiring the slick that trickled out of her entrance. She hissed at his first flat-tongued lick, but soon her little noises filled the room as he ate her out like a starved man. At times, her taste on his tongue had him closing his eyes with sheer pleasure._

_He didn't ignore an inch. He alternated between sucking her clit and thrusting his fingers in her core with licking her broadly from her opening to her hooded nub. She clutched his hair between her fingers, making him groan, pushing his face closer to her core. The fire pooled around her belly, and she shattered around him, squeezing his head between her thighs, her body arching."_

The woman in the book moaned and so did Hermione, far from immune to the written scene.

Draco hid a groan in his fist before taunting the witch, “Did you just moan?”

"Excuse me?" Her indignation had lost its purchase and Hermione breathed unsteadily in small spurts. "I did no such thing." She tried to look offended, but her blushing belied her intention. "You're an idiot."

“Is that really news? But I’m not the one who buys books about men going down on women, eating her pussy like a starved man.” He countered, again trying to shift to keep his bulge away from her gaze.

She whined.

Draco studied her face, grabbed the book and read aloud from a randomly chosen page, “ _He released the pert nipple with a pop and returned to her mouth. He picked her up by the arse and wrapped her thighs around his waist, pacing towards his bed. Drake let them fall together, devouring her mouth while his hands shoved the rest of her dress away. His belt, button and zipper were quickly opened, and he released her just long enough to push the garments down his legs._

_"Skip the foreplay, Drake. I need you inside me." Her words took away his resolve, and he entered her with a powerful thrus-_ ”

Groaning, Hermione snatched the book from his hands, threw it over her shoulder while pulling Draco toward her by his tie. Her lips caught his in a fiery kiss, while her hands untied the green fabric with rough movements. 

Draco whined into her mouth, frozen by her unexpected attack. But then every nerve point came alive in an instant. He grabbed her by her cheeks, pulling her from the chair and walking them towards the bed.

He undressed her jumper, opening her buttons with frantic fingers faster than she was unbuttoning his. “Granger, your skin is so fucking soft. Your titties fill my hands.” He weighed her breasts in his palms, brushing a thumb over a lace-clad nipple.

"Fuck." The hiss he drew from her lips morphed into a groan, the button from his slacks was resisting her. Irritated, she pushed at either side of the waist, and the offending closure flew in the air, the zipper sliding down without a hitch. First, Hermione grabbed his arousal in her hand, pumping her fist a few times, getting acquainted with his girth.

“Not too fast, or this party will be over before it begins. It’s been a while...” he said against her lips, his hands making short work of her skirt’s zipper, then pulling it down her legs, quickly followed by her knickers. The bra, that he earlier forgot to unhook, but then he took a few moments to feast on the vision revealed before him. “You’re so gorgeous.”

By then, Draco's slacks and underwear pooled at his ankles. The wizard kicked until they fell with a thump next to the bed. He wanted to cover her body with his, again, but Hermione held him up with a hand. Her fingers trailed over his pronounced pectorals, the creases between his abdominals towards his Adonis belt, scraping lightly over the blond curls above his cock.

“Are you done with the glorifying, Granger? Can I do some worshipping myself, witch?” His ego got quite a stroking, the appreciation in her look firing him up, especially when her fingers trailed along the scars from Potter’s _sectumsempra_ spell. Growing impatient, he grabbed her fingers, laced them with his and brought her hands over her head. “Does Ronnekins realise what a beauty he let slip through his fingers when you two divorced?” 

He held both her wrists with one hand so the other could roam free. Immediately his hand bored into her hair, twirling her curls between his fingers. "The softest hair, beautiful curls, smelling so good. I love the jasmine scent." He sniffed loudly.

“You used to laugh at me for my hair.” A shiver ran along her spine, feeling his tongue licking her earlobe barely seconds before he bit down.

"A foolish boy seeking attention," he dismissed the past. He showered the column of her throat with a train of kisses. Then, Draco slid down to bury his face in the valley between her breasts. "May I suck your nipples?" He hovered above a perky nub, the thumb ghosting along the underside. She nodded, the blush covered her entire chest and gave the skin an adorable rosy complexion. Her chest rose and fell at a fast speed, and she arched when he closed his lips around her nub and sucked it deep into his mouth. His teeth closed around the nipple to tease it with short pulls. 

Draco switched sides using his hand to knead the flesh of the neglected breast. Hermione moaned, freeing a hand from his hold to grasp the back of his head and press him tighter against her chest.

"Can't get enough, eh, witch?" He chuckled against her skin but returned to the task at hand.

“Draco, can you touch me elsewhere, please?” She asked softly.

“Here?” His hand stroked her side and her tummy.

“Lower, please,” She coaxed him further, raising her hips.

“Where do you want my hand, Granger?” Nevertheless, he was sliding down, her legs spreading wider to accommodate his shoulders. He planted a kiss right above the brown tuft of hair at her mound.

“There, Draco.” She had never been very vocal, but somehow with Draco, she found the courage to be so, “Rub my clit, please.”

“Only rub, or may I taste it too?” He gave the hooded nub a kitty lick. She tightened and felt a trickle of wetness slip from her core.

“Please, Draco.” It wasn’t begging, but it wasn’t far away from pleading, either.

"Do you want me to go down on you, as Drake does in your book?" The mighty Hermione Granger seemed to be a vulnerable thing in bed, he discovered unexpectedly. He’d anticipated encountering a dominant witch instead of this submissive woman, and he couldn't deny he loved every second of it.

Her moan answered him, and he delved into her pussy as if he was a man desperate for a drop of water. His lips closed around her clit and sucked rhythmically. He inserted a finger carefully, testing the waters. The finger slid in without hesitation.

Synchronising his movements, he sucked and pumped, swirling his tongue at times. Her little noises played like a symphony in his ears and revealed exactly how far she was from her peak. “Is this what you wanted?” His hot breath on her pussy was sending jolts of fire straight to her core. “May I add another finger?”

She was unable to utter a word, relying on a nod to convey her approval. But it was too soon, too much. She released a throaty wail, crushing his head between her thighs. "Granger, you don't need to roleplay your book." He grinned, using both hands to spread her knees and give himself some room. 

Hermione smirked. “Sorry,” a breathy apology. 

“Ready for part two?” He _accio’ed_ his wand, cast a contraceptive spell and rose above her, leaning on his extended arms.

“Are you?” She grabbed his erection and pumped it a few times, rejoicing in how it hardened further between her fingers.

“Cheeky much, are we now?” Draco flung her hand away, positioned himself and entered her in phases, each thrust reaching deeper within. As he got down to serious business, the build-up within his loins threatened to erupt. Using two fingers to rub firm figure eights around her sensitive clit, Draco set a maddening pace.

Hermione held onto Draco’s shoulders, muffling her cries against his skin.

"I want to hear you, Hermione." He supported his weight on his elbows, dipping down to her breast and showering her nipple with licks and bites, sucking in between. He was on the verge of explosion and he wanted to make her shatter with him. "I'm so close, Hermione. You're an amazing woman with a hot pussy that sets my cock on fire. A beauty under my body. Any wizard would feel proud to be given much less."

He kissed her hard, allowing her tongue to twirl around his, plucking her lip between his teeth. "Fuck, I can't hold it anymore." The first burst of come made his brain white-out, each following spurt extending into an inebriating bliss not even the firewhiskey could achieve. He was a generous lover, and Draco increased the pace of his rubbing on her clit until she broke around him, squeezing his softening cock for a final spurt.

He recovered his breath faster than Hermione. “Did my tongue battle with yours for dominance, Granger?”

His question made her burst into a peal of laughter. She wanted to sternly rebuke him, but her laughter made it nearly impossible. “I think we’ll need to do it again.”

“Only need to ask.” Draco french-kissed her thoroughly once more.

“At least, you’re not trying to reach my tonsils.” Hermione joked, shifting in the bed until Draco had enough room to slide next to her.

“What?” He blinked in confusion.

“Never mind. Inside joke.” It surprised her to feel Draco’s fingers rub mindless circles over her skin. “I didn’t take you for a cuddler.”

“Witch, you really love to push my buttons.” Despite the irritable words, he tucked her head under his chin and pulled a feminine leg over his. He resumed his rubbing along her spine with a spread hand.

“We have a review to write.” Her breath tickled his chest hair as she reminded him of their ‘assignment’ for McGonagall.

“Later. My brain needs some time to recover.” He slapped the swell of her arse. “Where does this leave us?”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head upwards.

Softly, he pushed her head back to its original place, “You, me, vertical gymnastics, repeat performances, romantic moments…”

“Ah, is that your highly romantic way of asking if I want to date you?” She rested her chin on his chest, “I don’t know. I’m allergic to ferrets.”

“I cured your allergy, you little swot.” He swatted her arse once more. “Will you? Go on a date with me?”

“Don’t go cheesy on me now, Draco dear.” She planted a kiss on his solar plexus, “I can be easily persuaded with ice cream, though.” At least the Slytherin prince didn’t need the manual to find his way around her body. _What else could he be hiding behind all that snarky pretence?_

**Author's Note:**

> The excerpts I make fun of in this work are all by my own hand. Basically, Draco is laughing at my smut writing skills.


End file.
